FUTURES
NATURE|Vol 448|19 July 2007
Modern mating
FUTURES
John Zakour
386
Finally it was about to happen. All those
hours in the lab, even more time invested
searching, almost begging for grant money
and backers, was about to pay off. A hundred years ago they had matchmakers. At
the turn of century they had match-making websites. HA! Those were the dark
ages! We were set to exponentially one-up
them all with the very first custom made
Perfect Android Mate, PAM-I.
Looking at her laying there on the lab
table, she really was a sweet sight. Blonde
hair draped over her shoulders, blue eyes
with long curly lashes, perfectly chiselled
button nose, a mouth with lips that were
both pouty and sweet, and a body that had
more curves than a road up the Alps. Every
man would love to have her as his companion. And that’s based on her looks alone.
But PAM-I is so much more than her
appearance. Being programmable and
customizable, we can make her whatever
the end-user wants her to be. Her likes and
interests can complement the user’s perfectly. She gives new meaning to the term
‘user-friendly’.
PAM-I was only the beginning! Once we
had her up and running there would be
other models of both sexes to follow. Yes
sir, we were going to eliminate incompatibility and loneliness forever. I wasn’t sure
if I’d get a Nobel for this, but I was going to
make a lot of cash.
Deb, my longest-serving postdoc,
walked into the lab. Deb was a pleasant enough looking girl: short dark hair,
friendly eyes; but she was no PAM-I. Then
again, no flesh-and-blood woman was;
they all came with their own likes and dislikes, their own mental baggage weighing
them down. We were about to put an end
to all that.
Deb looked PAM-I over from head to
toe with a wary eye. “Dr Sebastian, are you
sure about this?”
“Of course I’m sure. I have tenure!” I
said.
She shook her head. “Man-made mates
seem so unnatural.” Deb considered herself
my conscience.
Walking up and down the table bearing PAM-I, I gave her the last check-over.
“This is 2077, we can do better than natural. The customer expects it.”
Deb shook her head. “If you say so, I’m
just a lowly postdoc.”
“You’ve entered the last small-talk and
useful trivia subroutines?” I asked.
Deb pulled out her small, paper-thin
computer. She looked at it. “Yes.”
I stroked PAM-I gently on the cheek;
her skin was so soft. “You’ve alerted the
press?”
She nodded. “Yes. Reps from all the
major networks and blogs will be here
in four hours.” She hesitated. “Are you
sure you want to show her to the press so
soon? We haven’t even done any beta testing yet.”
I smiled at her. “I’ll be doing the beta
testing myself. After all, she is programmed
to be my perfect match.”
Deb lowered her head. “Are you
really that forlorn?” she
asked meekly.
I shrugged. It’s
true science can
be a lonely mistress, especially
when you’re not
the best-looking guy around.
Humans can be
so superficial. I
couldn’t admit that
to one of my employees though. “No, no, of
course not. Many scientists
use themselves in experiments. Jung and Freud did it all
the time. It’s a prudent cost-cutting
measure.”
Deb rolled her eyes but I ignored her. I
pointed to PAM-I. “Time to activate her!”
I said dramatically.
Deb pushed a button on her computer.
“You are recording this for history,” I
reminded Deb.
“Of course,” she sighed.
PAM-I shot up into a sitting position.
She opened her eyes. “Where am I?” she
asked.
“You are in New New York University
artificial human lab-12,” I told her.
“Oh,” PAM-I said looking around. “Nice
place.”
“We’re subsidized by Wal-Mart,” Deb
told her.
“So what’s your favourite colour?” I
asked PAM-I.
“Blue,” she said.
“How many children would you like?”
I asked.
“I can have children?”
“Yes, you are fully functional,” Deb told
her.
PAM-I smiled. “One girl, with red
hair.”
“Your favourite food?”
“Grilled shrimp with a touch of lime,”
she said.
“Who won the 1986 World Series?” I
asked her.
“The Mets.”
PAM-I was great. She was working out
exactly as planned.
“What do you consider to be the perfect
evening?” Deb asked.
PAM-I looked up at the ceiling thinking
about her answer. She bit her lip and said:
“Watching a ball game while giving my
man a back rub and snacking on pizza.”
Deb turned to me. “Yep, she’s perfect for you.”
“I know,” I said barely able to
contain my glee.
I held my hand
out to PAM-I.
She accepted it.
I helped her to
her feet. She
took a step and
stumbled. I
caught her. She
straightened up.
“Sorry,” she said.
“Legs take a while to
get used to.”
“No problem,” I said. I looked
at my wrist computer. “We have three
hours until I introduce you to the press.”
“As your date?” she asked.
“Yes, that’s the whole purpose of this
operation,” I said.
“To find you a date?” PAM-I asked, eyebrow raised.
“No, to make it so that everyone can
have a perfect companion. You and I are
the test pilots.”
PAM-I looked at me with eyes wide open.
She shook her head. “I don’t like that.”
Deb looked at me. “See, it’s not right
building an intelligent being for the sole
purpose of being somebody’s mate.”
PAM-I shook her head again. “No, that’s
not what I mind at all…”
“Then what is it?” I asked.
“You’re not nearly good looking enough
for me,” PAM-I told me.
Damn! We made her too human… ■
John Zakour is a SF/humour writer with a
master’s degree in human behaviour. His
last novel was The Frost-Haired Vixen
(Daw, 2006). His next two novels will be
The Blue-Haired Bombshell (Daw, 2007)
and Baxter Moon Galactic Scout (Brown
Barn, 2008). He can be found at www.
johnzakour.com.
JACEY
Match point.